Sleeping Beauty
by SassenachStarbuck
Summary: Unable to sleep, Draco stumbles upon his own Sleeping Beauty, will he wake in time, or will she succumb to never-ending sleep?


**Story Title: Sleeping Beauty**

**School: Ilvermorny**

**Theme: Draught of the Living Dead**

**Prompt: (Main) Potion's Book [Object], Dungeons [Setting] (Used as the primary setting.)**

**Year: Three (Full Time Student)**

**Word Count: 1933**

_The Draught of Living Death is a very powerful sleeping potion that can be made by adding powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood_, Hermione read from the book but of course, she already knew this. She didn't understand what she was doing wrong. She was following the instructions for the potion from the text to the letter.

Still, it wasn't the shade of lilac that it needed to be when Professor Slughorn approached her workstation. He _tsked _as he walked away, not giving her a chance to explain. He didn't even tell her how she could improve her brewing style or technique.

She had never been jealous of Harry, but it was obvious that Professor Slughorn showed him more attention based solely on his notoriety rather than his academic achievements. She was even more shocked when Slughorn announced at the end of class that Harry had brewed the best Draught that he had ever seen. What!? That can't be the case, she followed the directions exactly as they were. Why would the instructions even be in the text, if that wasn't the correct way to brew the potion?

She slammed her potions book closed. As soon as the chime sounded, she left the classroom and zoomed around the corner. There is no possible way that Harry, who had barely scraped together an Acceptable under Professor Snape, miraculously went to the top of the class, on the first day no less.

Later that night after dinner, as they were seated in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, Harry revealed that he had used the instructions scribbled in the margins from the used potion book he had borrowed from Professor Slughorn.

The nerve. That was cheating, clear cut cheating. Harry wasn't using the same instructions as everyone else. Hermione was going to prove that she could still make a better brew without the help of the cheating, scribbled in book.

This was the idea that had Hermione bent over her potion text some hours later, in the practice laboratory that Slughorn had set up down the hall from his classroom in the dungeons.

Her hair frizzled out around her, more and more with every ingredient she added to the cauldron. She added the infusion of wormwood and then added the powdered root of asphodel. She double checked that it was two clockwise stirs before she added the sloth brain. It took her some time to cut the Sopophorus beans to be able to extract the required amount of juice. Once she added the juice, she started with seven anticlockwise stirs.

The colour of the potion lightened with every stir. Finally, after the last stir, the lilac brew glistened under the torchlight of the classroom. The potion, the one she had made following the instructions of her text, was obviously far superior to Harry's potion from class. She did it, she actually completed a perfect potion. Of course, no one was around to witness this.

Her accomplishment was short-lived when her textbook fell off the side of the table. She bent down to pick up the book and on her way back up she misjudged the distance down and hit her head on the underside of the workstation. She swayed where she stood once she was all the way up. She had missed the potion slosh in the cauldron and the few drops flying through the air and landing on the back of her hand. She subconsciously wiped her hands over her face trying to catch her bearings, and then it all went dark.

The last thing she thought she had seen before she fainted was a bit of blonde hair being revealed from behind a shimmer of a disillusionment charm. She didn't have to open her eyes to recognize the smells of the hospital wing. She didn't think she had hit her head that hard, but she had barely touched her dinner because she was still fuming that Harry had beat her at something, especially in a class in which he barely took notes. She was just a touch woozy, she was sure of it. She began to get out of bed to find Madam Pomfrey when her eyes landed on a sleeping form in a chair pulled close to the foot of her bed.

The student obviously was not supposed to be out of bed at this hour and didn't want anyone to notice. The hood pulled up over the head and face obscured the mysterious student's identity.

Draco Malfoy was in over his head, he had an impossible task to complete set to him by the Dark Lord himself who was currently living in his parent's home. Ever since the Yule Ball in his fourth year he had been harbouring a crush. If this girl knew that he fancied her, well let's just say that Merlin himself would give up his magic. It had taken all of his Occlumency lessons from his godfather and his mother to hide this passing fancy. A "passing fancy" is what his mother called it. His godfather, Severus Snape, had seen it inside his mind for what it was. He was in love, with what Draco knew of the concept anyway.

He had stopped going out of his way to tease and bully her, ignoring the weekly missives from his father that reminded him how "Muggleborns" were supposedly beneath them, and not to fail in his task. However, she was always on his mind. During the day and during the night, remembering her in her periwinkle dress when he was alone in the Slytherin dorms. Unlike tonight, when he had been unable to sleep and knew that a quick walk around the castle would help him.

He saw a light on in one of the classrooms in the dungeons. No one in Slytherin beat him in grades, so he knew it had to be someone from one of the other houses inside working. That the student must have lost track of time since curfew had been 45 minutes earlier. He cast what he could of a disillusionment charm so he could get a peek at the rule breaker. His heart beat in an uneven staccato when he saw it was none other than his heart's desire, Hermione Granger.

If she were to see him, he was sure that a duel would have ensued from it. He eased himself into the classroom. She was so absorbed in the potion making and pouring herself over the potion's text she never noticed when the door cracked open and closed itself again. He stood at the end of her workstation watching her for a good long while. He enjoyed the pride that she took in preparing her materials before she started brewing. He realised that Severus would have loved to give her praise if it weren't for her house. Draco used to believe that Snape's bias was based on blood status. That belief left Draco long ago, after one lesson in particular with his godfather. He had seen Snape's memories and witnessed Severus' "passing fancy" for his very own Muggleborn Witch.

Draco knew that they would never be an item. They would never have a relationship. He wasn't trying to start one with her, he was just trying to make sure that she would be able to defeat the Dark Lord when the time came. He needed her to live to be able to have a chance at a happy life free from the evil that he knew he would be directly responsible in helping. He had no choice, not when his family had practically sold him to the Dark Lord.

He could hear her muttering ingredients to herself, she was obviously trying to recreate the potion that Slughorn had had them attempt in class today. What was the point? Even if she could correctly brew the potion, she would need to vanish the contents, or one drop of her perfect potion would place her in a deep slumber.

He had heard stories as a young boy about a sleeping Witch who was awakened by her true love's kiss, which just happened to be the potion master for whom she worked. Severus had told him to not believe in such things. The story was most likely an insipid Witch who had gotten too close to the Potion Master's laboratory and came in contact with some sleeping-draught, such as the Draught of the Living Death. Because of the death like appearance and the slumber of the person who comes in contact with the draught, the muggles thought she was cursed to sleep forever. Severus never believed in silly things like children's tales, especially not Muggle tales. His response was a firm explanation that most likely the Potion Master woke the Witch up with some Wiggenweld Potion. No kissing had been involved at all.

When Hermione fell, he didn't even realize that she had come in contact with the potion she was brewing. He cast a quick _finite incantatem_ and scooped up her unconscious form and practically ran to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey placed Hermione in a bed and dismissed Draco back to his dorm with a pointed look. He knew that his godfather had been talking to some of the staff, he just hadn't realized how far that had reached. He hid in the shadows unable to leave her in the deserted infirmary. When he saw that Hermione had still not woken up, the obvious solution came to the front of his mind.

He raced back to the Potions classroom. He saw Hermione's potions text on her workstation where she had left it before her fall. He started flipping through the pages looking for the one potion that _could_ be an antidote. He slammed the book in frustration and remembered that his godfather always kept some ready-made potions on hand. He was going to have to find the one he needed. He found the dusty vial on the second from the top shelf in his godfather's personal stores.

Once back in the hospital wing, he went around the curtains that the matron had drawn around Hermione's bed. He could have easily spread a few drops of the potion across her lips and poured the rest down her throat. But where is the fun in that? He put the vial to his lips and coated them to make sure that it covered the entirety of them.

He leaned down slowly until his lips pressed firmly against his sleeping beauty. He had to make sure that the potion coated her lips. He knew it was an unnecessary risk but at least he got to kiss her once. One forbidden action of his own choosing before he inevitably failed his task set by the Dark Lord and was consequently murdered by the end of the school year. He didn't know what dosage of the Wiggenweld would be needed to wake her, so he gently slid his hand under her riotous mass of curls, propped her head up, and poured the potion down her throat. He slowly laid her head back on to her pillow. Draco grabbed a chair from a nearby bed and sat down. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he knew she was safely awake. He pulled his hood up and about his shoulders, his eyes focused on her until they no longer could stay open.

When he woke up, the bed was empty with only a folded piece of parchment propped up against the pillow.

_To My Knight,_

_Thank You_

_Yours,_

_Sleeping Beauty_


End file.
